thirty questions
by 3R1CHU
Summary: There are questions in every life. Drabbles based on a Poem by David Levithan. Please read and review! I'll send you virtual cookies!


Hi, standard disclaimer. I own nothing. CC owns it all.

Story note: These are drabbles. They don't really go together, just flow loosely in the same direction, capice? Anyway, these were written, I believe, pre-Ashes, I know, it's the Stone Age, but like I said… Also if it's a pairing in MI, then it's in here.

_what do I mean to you?_

It's a question that she's asked herself over and over again. What is she to Jace Wayland, murderer, lover, brother? A sister, a saint, a sinner, or something even darker?

_why are you mean to me?_

Alec swallows hard and watches Jace stager out of the weapons room. He knows that he shouldn't take it personally, that Jace is just blowing off steam, that Jace doesn't really mean it. But knowing doesn't make the hurting stop.

_is this a fantasy?_

Magnus looks down at the boy sleeping on his shoulder. Gentle breaths stir the silky hair covering the beautiful face. Everything seems so idyllic, like a dream. Little does the world know that Magnus is still waiting for the dream to end.

_is anything real?_

Alec watches his sister, clinging precariously to the ledge of Magnus' building. She sways drunkenly. He tells her to come down. Says that falling from there would end her party for real. She smiles like the rising sun and says, _is anything real?_

_why can't I be with you?_

Jace never asks pointless questions, or ones that he knows the answers to. It is a quality Hodge loved about him. Yet, day after day, night after night, he finds himself asking.

_what will you say to me?_

The first encounter is always the hardest. Alec holds his breath until Magnus passes him by, ignores him thoroughly, just so he can spend the rest of the time wondering why it still hurts like this.

_why can't I walk away?_

Blue eyes meet and hold green. They look away, stung by the rawness there. They focus instead on a retreating back, burning holes into a golden body while they each wonder why they stay.

_will you please stay?_

He is High Warlock. He does not beg, does not plead, and does **not** cry. But he nearly breaks his own rules, just so he doesn't wake up alone.

_why can't I fall for_

_someone who'll love me?_

Alec burrows tighter into the chest he's leaning against, held secure in the arms supporting him. He wants to lose this feeling of love, to suffocate it in another's arms; drown it in another's kisses. It doesn't change who he sees when the lights go out.

_why isn't anything_

_I do good enough?_

Simon sees the way Clary watches the blonde boy before anyone else does. He sees the way Jace is calm, cool, and confident, all the things Simon can't be. He knows it's in friend code to be happy, but all he thinks is _why not me?_

_why does the sight of you_

_make me start trembling?_

The first time Alec saw him his body shook. It was fear. Fear of exposure. The second time he trembled. It was fear. Fear of wanting.

_will you please be the one_

_to save me from you?_

All he needs is a word, just one word from those lips. _Go_. Say it and he'll be free. Free to live, free to breath, free to love, free to die…

_why did you hold my hand?_

The night of Valentine's return, Jace staggered into the medical ward, looking broken. Alec only wanted to make the hurt go away. Human beings crave touch, left too long without and they die. So when he extended his hand he expected Jace to take it. He just didn't expect Jace to be the one holding on.

_why won't I let you go?_

There are days he wants to scream, to slam her against a wall until she leaves him alone.

There are days she wants to scream, to slam him against a wall until he leaves her alone.

There are days they want to scream, to slam each other against a wall until they let go.

_who do you think you are,_

_to do this to me?_

Magnus balls his hands into fists as Alec walks away, wishing he had the fortitude to slam them into that pretty face. He has never been so humiliated in all his 300 years. Not even the Silent Brothers, with all of their trials and punishments, could strip him of his last bit of pride. With a quelling look and a stern word, Magnus feels that last bit rip free and fly away.

_is it all over?_

There is a mundane phrase about the calm before the storm and Isabelle thinks that is appropriate. The storm, a miasma of Valentine, secrets and the forbidden, has halted, not stopped.

_is it only beginning?_

A/N: This is borrowed from the David Levithan anthology called The Realm of Possibility. The poem is longer, but my computer crashed ages ago and I just discovered this on a zip drive, so here it is. Review and I'll give you an e-cookie!


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